If
by hushedgreylily
Summary: 'If' is a wonderful word. A number of independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.
1. If she'd let Mark try something

**IF**

'**If' is a wonderful word. A number of relatively independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.**

**Limited spoilers for their entire story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Rated M.**

_**If she'd let Mark try something in med school**_

She was tired, and she was fed up, that night. Archer had been lighting fuses in the Montgomery household again when she'd been home for the weekend, and after promising he'd be home for dinner, the Captain hadn't turned up until the early hours of the morning, stating he'd been 'working'. She hadn't even asked what his new secretary was called, she'd been part of this story her whole life.

So, when she'd finally escaped and gotten back to her flat, she'd decided to cut her losses and put her best shoes on and go out for a drink. She didn't do it enough; she figured she wasn't doing the student thing quite right. Sometimes maybe she ought to think more about being herself, not about being a Montgomery. Because for all they talked, they weren't in such a good place, Bizzy, the Captain and even her brother. She wasn't sure being a Montgomery was all she'd been promised.

She sunk into a seat opposite the bar, flashing a smile at the barman, who raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly – she wasn't a regular, and she didn't look quite _right _for your normal student. The jewellery on her wrist, around her neck and in her ears looked like it was worth more than he earned in a year, you couldn't deny that coat looked expensive and as for the shoes she was wearing… But he returned her dazzling smile after a few seconds of surprise, and asked what her poison was.

That night was the night Addison started drinking vodka, and from that moment on it was her vice.

A pair of men turned up minutes later, and everything shifted.

She was only really looking at one of them, the one in front, the one with the dangerous eyes, dark and fiery, the half-smile that somehow managed to set her heart racing, and that smell… there was something slightly _spicy _about the man who was leaning on the bar next to her, offering to buy her another vodka cranberry, his eyes darting between her eyes and her neckline, but without shame, almost as if he couldn't care less what she thought.

There was another guy behind him, darker haired and smiling slightly nervously, but she didn't have time to even think about him in that moment. Breathing was getting even harder, her breaths were getting shallower by the second, and she hadn't had enough to drink (yet) so she was making polite conversation – she can't remember what about – and smiling demurely as she accepted her second drink.

And then her third, and then her fourth, and then everything started blurring.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but all of a sudden the guy with the dark, lusty eyes wasn't beside her anymore, and the slightly nervous looking silent friend was giving her a slightly nervous smile.

"Mark won't be long. He's gone out for a cigarette. He's always quick."

She still doesn't know why she did what she did next, but she found herself sliding off her bar stool, almost as if it was out of her own control, and giving Mark's dark haired friend a smile.

"I need some air." She breathed, hardly believing herself. "I won't be long."

The man with the dark eyes was stood out the back, between the dumpsters, a cigarette smoking between his fingers. He looked up when she tottered out the back door, but he didn't say anything.

That infuriated her. She was slightly drunk, she'd followed him out there – which in her book was more than enough of a hint that she wanted something to happen – she couldn't read his eyes, and he wasn't giving her anything. She gave a slightly exasperated sigh, and leant against the dumpster, about a metre away from him.

"Hey, Red. Cigarette?" he held the packet out to her, lid askew. She shook her head.

His voice, as well. She still couldn't breathe.

"You at school?" she asked, her voice sounding not quite like her own.

He gave her a mildly infuriating smile. "Third year medicine. You?"

"Second year." She threw what she hoped was an equally infuriating smile back.

"I've not seen you around here before." He whispered, stubbing out the cigarette and moving closer, until she had that smell surrounding her again. "You're a different type, though, aren't you? You seem like a different type…"

"Not tonight." She shook her head, and took a slightly staggering step towards him. "Not tonight."

She still isn't sure which one of them gave the first push, which one of them leant all the way in at the last moment, but all of a sudden there were hot lips on hers and she was drowning. And then his hands were everywhere and he was pushing her back up against the wall, between the dumpsters, mouth suddenly travelling down her throat, his sinful tongue caressing her skin.

And there were fingers everywhere and before she knew it she wasn't wearing all her items of clothing anymore and her own hands were finding their way to his belt buckle, his obvious arousal suddenly in her hands, and he was choking against her collarbone. It gave her a great deal of satisfaction; from the sound of his choking breaths she was doing to him something somewhat like what he was doing to her.

His fingers were sliding between her legs, then; her lace knickers were long gone; they were suddenly slipping between her wet folds, and she was moaning, her head making gentle contact with the brick wall behind her.

She was pinned to the back wall of a bar, in the middle of the night, one of her legs around his hips, her hands down the front of his trousers.

God, Bizzy would be horrified.

And then he was lifting her right up, his other hand leaving her breast, his mouth finding its way back to hers again, however messily it travelled up her throat.

Before she could even think, he was at her entrance, and inside her, sending a spark through her entire body that threatened to never let her be quite the same person ever again. She kept letting her mouth dance against his as they started moving in rhythm, rocking against each other, gently at first, before the pressure started building, it was all suddenly more demanding, faster, and _she_ _couldn't even think _anymore, she was so close.

She came seconds before he did, clamping her teeth down on his bottom lip, shocking him and pushing him over the edge immediately afterwards. She trailed her lips down and across his throat as he caught his breath, and he brought his lips to hers again as he slid out of her, unhooking his hands carefully from her hair. She mussed it down a little, but she knew there was no way she was going to look presentable, heading back through the bar, so she gave him a small, slightly nervous smile and he raised one eyebrow.

"Addison, right?" he asked, and it still sounded _dark, _it still got her heart going.

She nodded, stepping her right leg back into her underwear, an unavoidable blush creeping across her cheeks.

"You wanna come back to my place?"

And because she was being reckless that evening, she'd just done something that people like her absolutely _did not _do, and because his eyes and his voice and his smell were still adding an increasing warmth below her belly, she said yes.

That was the start of everything.

* * *

_As it was, she was tired, and she was fed up, but she was a Montgomery. She wasn't ever going to be one of those people who had what was probably going to be only a one-night stand out the back by the dumpsters, so she'd looked at Mark with ice in her eyes, and shot him down until he'd moved onto the blonde a few seats along the bar, with numerous empty glasses in front of her and tears in her eyes. (The blonde would later turn out to be Savvy, and her hideous entanglement with Mark by the dumpsters on the night of a messy break up would never be spoken of.) She smiled and drank a few small glasses of white wine, before stopping because she knew her limit, and she wasn't going to embarrass herself, despite how problematic her family was proving to be behind closed doors._

_As she turned to leave, the nice looking dark haired guy who'd been quietly hovering behind the man with the dark, dangerous eyes had given her a little smile, and spoken._

"_Miss Montgomery?"_

_He remembered her name. _

"_Addison, please. Sorry, I don't think you told me yours."_

"_Derek."_

_She shook his hand, smiling. This was far more how she did it, this was far more sophisticated and classy._

"_I couldn't… would it be alright with you if I gave you a call? Another time? We could go out for dinner or something?"_

_As she smiled at how nervous he looked, nodded enthusiastically and jotted down the phone number of her flat on a napkin, she thought about how much Bizzy would like him, the Captain would approve._

_She married him, a few years later. It lasted eleven years._

**Hope you enjoyed! There will be a number of other pieces in this sequence, but they're all stand-alone pieces, as they're all answers to different 'if's, like this one. Also, I'm supposedly revising and passing my second year finals, so be prepared for the updates to be sporadic.**

**I'd love a review, however short. I'm very scared the Maddison section of the Greys fandom is dying, and I want you all to prove otherwise! And constructive criticism is always welcome.**


	2. If she'd said no at the front door

**IF**

'**If' is a wonderful word. A number of relatively independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.**

**Limited spoilers for their entire story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

_**If she'd said no at the front door of the brownstone in a failing marriage**_

**Just a quick note – every piece is a standalone, so every 'if' is in the canon timeline until the scene starts. So every chapter is following the italics at the bottom of the previous chapter – what really happened in Shondaland. Hope that makes sense.**

45 minutes after he'd said he would be there, her doorbell rang. Wiping the tears on her cheeks viciously, checking herself in the mirror as she passed to make sure Derek couldn't see that he'd got her crying again, she answered the door.

Because her marriage was dissolving, because this was her life, because everything was awful right now, it was Mark.

She sighed, giving him a slight smile. "He couldn't make it, I guess?"

There was something in Mark's eyes she didn't think she'd seen ever since the first day she met him, but she didn't dwell on it. She might have just been seeing things.

"He's in a long procedure…. He's going to sleep in one of the on call rooms, he starts early in the morning…" he let out a seemingly exasperated sigh, "This isn't fair, Addie. How many times are you going to let him get away with this? How many times are you going to let him treat you like this?"

She shook her head at him, suddenly not quite able to meet his eyes. "There's nothing I can say, Mark, he's a busy man…"

"You know as well as I do that's not what it is, Addison! When was the last time he thought of you? When was the last time he was there for you? It's your birthday, for God's sake! Is he ever around anymore?"

She ran a hand loosely through her hair, thinking for a moment about how long she'd spent preparing it, for the night out with her husband that she'd always had a doubt whether it was actually going to happen. And he'd done what he always did, for the last eighteenth months or so, he'd sent Mark.

"What am I supposed to do about it, Mark? He's just… it's like he's not all here anymore… he's not been completely in _this _for a long time…"

The dark flashed behind his eyes again, and there was definitely something there. She bit her lip subconsciously, bringing her eyes back to his. There was something in them that robbed her of breath.

"You deserve better, Addie. You didn't do anything to deserve this. You shouldn't have to put up with it."

And then, completely unexpectedly, his lips fused against hers, pushing her back against the wall. It wasn't like she'd expected it to be, although she hadn't ever really allowed herself to imagine it. His mouth was hot, fiery, and suddenly his hands were everywhere. She couldn't think; she couldn't even catch her breath. And Mark's mouth was travelling down her throat, and the door was slamming closed behind him.

In that moment, surprisingly, she thought of her father. Her father, and all his secretaries, all his nurses, all his lies. Tears smarting in her eyes, she pulled back.

He dropped his eyes, shame crossing his face. "I'm sorry, Addie."

She shook her head, a disbelieving expression sliding over her face. "I… I… what is this, Mark? I can't just be another of the notches on your bedpost… I thought we were friends…"

His eyes still didn't meet hers. "I've… I've… you're not like the others, Addie…. I've wanted to do that since I met you, I've always wished we could have been something… but you were always Derek's girl… I guess I just figured as he isn't treating you right…"

"I think my marriage is over, Mark." She gave a tiny, half-hearted smile and a shrug. "And I didn't know…. _this… _even existed until a minute ago…"

His eyes were dark, again. "I want you, Addie. I'll… I've wanted you for a lot longer than you know…"

"But Derek's your-"

"You don't deserve this, Addie, whatever Derek is to me. You need to walk away from him, he's not going to change… he's not for you anymore."

There was a full silence for a moment, and it briefly occurred to Addison that she was spending seconds deciding what seemed like her whole life, right now.

Mark seemed to reconsider. "I'm sorry. Forget it ever happened."

Suddenly, everything seemed to be falling more into place in Addison's life than it had in years.

"Maybe I don't want to forget."

His eyes flew back up to hers at lightning speed.

She gave a dry laugh, and realised she was still somewhat in his arms. "_This _has crept right up on me, Mark… but if you really want… if you really think we could be something…" she bit her lip, and took a deep breath. "We need to do this right. I need to let Derek know I know we might as well not be married anymore… I need to draw the line under that before I can do anything else… and you need to think about it, Mark. You talk a good game and you make my heart beat faster, you do, but if you had to choose, what's more important, _this _or you and Derek?"

He shook his head at her, a smile touching his lips. "I… I feel more for you than I've ever felt… I don't… I don't look at you like I look at other women, you're… you're Addie."

This was such an alien feeling, but in that moment she started wondering how long she'd felt something for Mark and not realised.

"Go home, Mark. Give me time. This is a big deal, ending a marriage… give me time, and I'll be here…"

"I'll wait."

He pressed his lips to her forehead gently and turned away, briefly considering that he didn't know who this man was, but he certainly didn't seem like Mark Sloan. She changed him.

The divorce was relatively amicable, but it all happened very slowly. And she couldn't admit it to anyone, not even herself; every day that went past she feared that the length of time Mark would wait had ended.

Derek was offered a job in Seattle, and they both decided maybe living in separate cities, at least for a while, was what they needed. So he completely cleared out of the brownstone, telling her she 'might as well keep it, it was predominantly your father's money anyway.'

And then Mark was on the doorstep again, as he had been the night she'd realised her marriage was over, but he wasn't stealing kisses now, he was taking her out to dinner and dancing in her long red dress.

And then he was bringing her home and kissing her just inside the front door of the brownstone, and it suddenly made so much sense.

And then, they were Mark-and-Addison, like they'd never been anything else.

* * *

_As it was, his mouth was hot, fiery, and suddenly his hands were everywhere. She couldn't think, she couldn't even catch her breath, so she __**didn't **__think. Mark's mouth was traveling down her throat, and the door was slamming closed behind him, and everything in her world was shifting._

_It was unbelievably quick, that first time. Clothes were flying everywhere, feelings she hadn't even known she had were lurking below the surface, and she found herself, hardly more than half an hour later, in Marks arms in her bed. Her bed and Derek's bed._

_That was the start of a disastrous affair, that lasted weeks before Derek stumbled in on them, and then for months afterwards._

_Possibly, everything was ruined before it started._

**Again, I would love to know what you think! I've got a very small number of loyal followers, but if you could just take five minutes to tell me what you think, that would be very much appreciated…**


	3. If she'd kept the baby

**IF**

'**If' is a wonderful word. A number of relatively independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.**

**Limited spoilers for their entire story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

_If she'd kept the baby_

**Sorry it's been so long, guys, I was taking my finals! Hope some of you are still there **

After his shift, Mark rushed home, his heart thudding.

He'd been scared, and he'd done the stupid thing that he'd always done… he'd fallen back on the man-whore. He hadn't even been thinking, until the door to the on-call room had opened, and she'd seen Charlene in his arms. She'd turned away before he could even see her face, but in his mind's eye he could see it. He'd seen it a thousand times, with Derek. Addison, betrayed.

He couldn't believe he'd done this. He'd rarely loathed himself quite this much. He thought she'd changed him – she _had _changed him. He wouldn't have felt this terrible for anyone else. He wouldn't have felt this guilty.

He swallowed as he pulled up at the brownstone. Addison never did anything by halves – he wouldn't put it past her to have changed the locks or something. He walked up the steps, slowly, remembering how their affair had started right where he was standing, remembering how unexpectedly perfect everything had seemed, strangely, after Derek had found them and left town, after they'd started to settle together, as if they'd never done anything wrong, as if they were exactly where they were meant to be. And then she'd been presenting him with a flushed face and a pregnancy test, and he'd gotten scared.

It wasn't an excuse, but it was the only explanation he could come up with. With hindsight, her reveal had been beautiful. _Funny the way the world works, when something's quite possibly hardly yours any longer, it's so much more precious, _Mark mused, testing the doorknob lightly in his hand and stepping in.

He was greeted by Addison in the hallway, a suitcase on the floor, tears having run mascara tear tracks down her cheeks.

She looked at him, stunned, for a moment, and he wasn't sure if it was surprise that he'd dared to come back so quickly, or surprise that he'd come back to her at all.

There was a silence, an impasse, as they both stared at one another, suddenly unable to find all the necessary words.

Then Addison sunk onto the bottom step, her head in her hands.

When she spoke, the voice didn't quite sound like hers.

"Do you know what I did today? I went and sat in a waiting room at an abortion clinic for nearly an hour, Mark.."

"You didn't?" escaped his mouth before he'd had any chance for any kind of speech censorship. She looked up from her hands, her eyes flashing.

She shook her head, angrily. "No. I didn't. But it had nothing to do with you. You need to get out."

He almost knew his words were futile before they left his lips. "Addie, I-"

"I lost my husband for you, Mark. You don't get to do this to me. You need to go." The last four words were laced with venom, he'd never heard anything quite like it come out of her mouth.

"It's my baby too…"

She shook her head again, sudden fatigue in her eyes. "Yeah, and I'm not going to stop you from being its father. But you need to go."

"Addie, I was scared, I-"

He could hear himself, he sounded like a child.

She paused for a moment, because she knew him too well, and it did make sense that he was scared; she'd known him long enough to know that was how he dealt with situations when he was scared.

"I thought we were making things work, Mark. I wanted this to work." And all of a sudden she was crying, and when he hadn't thought he could feel any guiltier…

"It won't happen again, Addie, I'm sorry, you…. Believe me, please…. I'm scared, but I haven't been this happy… hell, _ever, _I think…"

He sounded like a gambler, begging for the last dollars for his last bet, desperate.

She considered for a long moment, but her face began to soften. "You still need to move out, Mark. I need some time, I need some space. Give me that, and I'll, you and me, we…"

Hope flooded through him. "You'll give me another shot? I won't ruin it again, I-"

Her eyes were still steel, but they seemed less on fire, they seemed somehow more malleable. "I need time. I need space. We… I think this has all happened too quickly." She ran a hand loosely through her hair, sighing. "I don't know anymore, Mark. I can't think about this right now. I need you to leave. Give me a few days, and then I'll pick up when you call…"

Her shaky, hollow promise fell slightly flat, but he knew he'd sacrificed the right to ask for anything else. He backed out of the door in a slightly awed silence, almost as if he was waiting for this to all fade away.

* * *

The first time he rang her, she was particularly hormonal and had shouted and screamed at him down the phone for the best part of an hour. He'd taken every blow like a fatal one, but he'd had the self-criticism not to argue. He'd listened until she had no more words to shout at him, and the conversation had stopped short, probably due to utter exhaustion.

They'd shakily become _friends _again in the last month of her pregnancy, and Ella had been born to two parents that while they hadn't been the same as they'd once been, had been somewhat of a united front.

What followed were a few years of both of them being unable to keep a relationship with someone else for more than a few dates, a few years of disastrous but somewhat emotionless break-ups, and juggling a beautiful little girl with red curls and her father's eyes.

It wasn't until he dropped his three-year-old daughter back at her mother's after a weekend with Daddy that he'd finally had the guts to ask her out again.

To his surprise, she'd said yes.

* * *

_As it was, Mark rushed home after his shift, his heart thudding, but by the time he got there, she'd already made it to the airport, she was already gone, her things all packed up and removed from the brownstone, as it turned out, forever._

_He drank a lot that night. He'd been scared, and he'd royally ruined everything, everything that had so perfectly slipped into place these last few weeks. She'd gone._

_Back to Derek._

**Hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear what you think!**


	4. If he hadn't died young (1)

**IF**

'**If' is a wonderful word. A number of relatively independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.**

**Limited spoilers for their entire story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**_If he hadn't died young _**

**Sorry it's been so long again, I've been very busy on placements! And they work you long hours at pig farms, it's very tiring, not a lot of writing time! This is where the 'if's stop running in the order of the story, because I have many planned for before this. **

**As she dedicated a lovely fluffy chapter of Mine Again to me, this one goes out to zajaacLulu! Hope you enjoy, you're my faithful reader/reviewer too!**

She was out there to help him recover, before she'd even thought about it. Callie rang her a few days after they were back in Seattle, and she'd been turning on her computer to book the flight back over there before she'd even hung up. She'd apologised to Jake for leaving in such a hurry, taking Henry with her, and it hadn't been as difficult as she'd expected it to be.

"I'm sorry… I'll ring you in the next few days… there's something about old friends, really old friends… I need to be there for him… I like to think he'd do the same for me…"

Jake gave her his enigmatic understanding smile, and she swallowed, wondering why she'd ever been worrying about his response.

She'd been in Seattle before the sun set that day, and putting Henry hastily in Seattle Grace's crèche, smiling at a familiar face across the open corridor, she'd almost burst into Mark's room.

He'd been still unconscious, and Derek was sat beside his bed, his left hand wrapped in bandages, his face grey. He looked up at her as she came in the room, and he didn't even seem to have it in him greet her, he started with _cardiac tamponade, _and she's still not sure what he said after that, only that by the end of the conversation she knew Mark's chances weren't all that good, and her heart felt a little heavier.

Addison and Derek sat in silence for the next twenty minutes, and then, equally silently, Derek left the room, and all of a sudden she felt ill, a tiny figure hunched alone beside his bed, and he wasn't moving, other than breathing. He didn't seem… _Mark._

She reached out and took his hand, half expecting it to be ice cold.

"You need to be alright." She whispered, "We've got so many conversations we need to have, you've got so many more years you need to live… there's so many things you haven't done yet…" The tears were running down her cheeks, and she hadn't even noticed them starting. "You've got to watch Sofia grow up, Mark, you've got to walk her down the aisle… I've got a son now, Henry… there's so much I have to tell you, there's so much we still have to say to one another… You just wake up, alright? You have to wake up." She trailed off, feeling the words hit the air and fall flat like the words of a child, but she felt like a child then. She felt like she couldn't make any sense of the whole thing, she felt like she wished someone could wrap her up in a blanket and make it all go away.

* * *

That night she lay awake staring at the ceiling in the hotel she booked her and Henry into. She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around it all, like there was some sort of block in her brain not letting her get past the moment, not letting her get onto the _what ifs. _Because if she went on to the what ifs she'd have to start thinking about _what if Mark died, _and that wasn't something she dared even think about. She felt like she was teetering on a knife edge, so close.

* * *

The following day she paid her visit to Mark in the morning, and one of the nurses said something about more detectable brain activity, increased chance of waking up, but she couldn't take it in. For a medical professional, she was surprisingly incapable of understanding medical speak, at least when the patient was _Mark. _

That afternoon she took Henry to meet Sofia, at Callie's flat, and the two little ones played in the sunshine whilst Callie appeared to be about to explode with frustration, and the now one-legged Arizona stared blankly into space.

If she'd been anywhere else right then, if her life had been doing something different, Addison would have been able to feel some sort of sympathy. But she couldn't _think. _

That was when Callie's phone rang, and when she dropped it in shock after she'd answered, for a moment Addison was ready for the words _Mark's dead _to crash around her ears, and then Callie started _laughing._

For a moment her laughs fell on silence, and even the children looked at her in slight bemusement. Arizona even turned her head, confusion flashing across her features before they became a mask again.

"He's awake." Callie breathed, and everything imploded.

* * *

Everything seemed to fall back into place in that moment. Arizona seemed to undergo some sort of transformation, she turned, a smile back on her face, and said she'd watch Henry and Sofia if Callie and Addison wanted to go into the hospital right away. In a different situation, maybe both of them would have doubted Arizona's capability, doubted whether they should leave her the responsibility, but it wasn't a different situation.

They'd been in the hospital in minutes, and Addison had lingered back whilst Callie ran through into Mark's room. Suddenly feeling like she wasn't in her place anymore, she stood outside the door, suddenly finding her feet incredibly interesting. Possibly seconds, possibly minutes, possibly hours later – she wouldn't've known, she seemed to be stuck in some sort of frozen moment – Derek had put his head round the door.

"He'd like to see you, Addison."

She'd stepped in, for one bizarre moment expecting him to be sitting there in his normal clothes, laughing at some sort of hideous prank he'd played on her, but he wasn't quite back to Mark. He was sat up in bed, a tiny smile on his lips, but his skin was pale, his eyes were tired. In a way, now he was awake, he looked more like a man that had danced a sordid polka with death, less like a sleeping child.

"You came all the way out here." He breathed, and his voice didn't sound quite right, either.

She'd started crying, because he was talking to her, and sounding like there'd ever been any doubt that she'd be there.

"Don't cry, Addie." That sounded more like Mark. "I'm alright."

"You scared the hell out of me." She whispered, taking another shaking step towards him. "You were so close…" she stuttered on the last words as she sat on the foot of his bed, taking his hand.

"I'm here." He breathed, colour seeming to flood back into his face as he spoke. "I'm right here."

* * *

They weren't with Mark for long that first time, and they shied out when a nurse dismissed them, tutting, as if she was ignoring the fact that she knew all three faces as medical professionals. Callie, gushing, asked when she would be able to bring Sofia, and Derek, looking all of a sudden slightly less tired, gave Addison a brief and impromptu hug, a smile on his face, and turned away down another corridor. Addison was left, staring at her feet again, the whole world spinning around her.

She picked up Henry, went back to the hotel, and slept, that night. Everything was somewhat back in its right place.

She didn't even think about ringing Jake.

* * *

Hearing from Callie the following morning, Mark was only going to be allowed one visitor at a time for 10 minutes in the morning, and another visitor in the afternoon. Keeping him in a calm state was essential right now. Callie was taking Sofia in that morning, and Derek and Meredith were going to check in that afternoon, so was it alright with Addison if she waited at least until tomorrow?

She didn't have an argument.

The report from Callie that evening was that he wasn't in a good place mentally, although he was making something of a miraculous medical recovery. Everything that happened to Lexie seemed to have hit him as he came more solidly round from his unconscious state, and he wasn't handling it well at all, wasn't cooperating taking his medication, and was uninterested in talking to anyone.

Inside, Addison was screaming. She didn't know how to handle this. She'd come here without even thinking, and when she'd seen him comatose in that bed, a thousand and one feelings had reared their ugly heads – and suddenly, she remembered. Little Grey, she was the one after Addison. She'd been the reason he hadn't stayed with her and Sloane's little one in LA. Maybe she held more power over him than Addison ever had, and now she was dead, and death empowers people.

She backed away.

* * *

It had been a week. She hadn't been in to see him, feigning some guise of letting Callie and Derek have the short visiting times he was allowed, and she'd been cowering in the corner, figuratively, trying her hardest not to think about where he might be, what he might be thinking. In her mind, he didn't _need _her right then, and she was going to keep her distance whilst it was necessary.

After a week of Callie's stories, each getting more hopeless than the last, and a final pleading look, something else (or someone else) seemed to take over Addison.

"I could go talk to him." She said, and the words almost caught on her tongue, as if she hadn't said them of her own accord. "Someone… more of an outsider… he might find it easier to talk…"

Callie nodded, and Addison's stomach twisted, as if she'd never been offering, really, and everything she'd said had been a load of crap, too, because since when had she been an outsider? But she'd offered, now, and that afternoon she was standing in the doorway of Mark's hospital room, and somehow he looked even less like Mark than he had a week ago.

"You're still here."

"I'm still here."

"What are you, like the last ditch attempt to get me over myself, Addie? Derek's last idea?" There was acid in his tone.

"Don't be like that." Her voice was near enough monotonic, the only way she could maintain any sanity. "Everyone's only trying to help you."

He laughed, but there wasn't anything beautiful about it, as she'd found in his laughs her whole life. It was poisonous, chilling. "Is that what you're doing?"

That threw her. Just slightly. "Of course that's what I'm doing. You're my best friend, Mark, -"

"Is that what we are?" he interrupted, and then laughed again. "You sure you're not here because everything you have out in LA's not all you thought it would be, and you thought this would give you the perfect opportunity to slip back in, almost unnoticed?"

She gritted her teeth, swallowing. Because there was some amount of truth in what he was saying.

"I've got a son. Henry. And I'm with Jake. I came to help you, and I'm not going to leave until we're getting somewhere."

It became something of a promise.

* * *

After she's been working with him for three more days, simply not allowing him to argue, not treading around him on cotton wool, the psychiatrists have commented to Owen on how much difference it's making, and all of a sudden he was offering her a temporary position in the NICU at Seattle Grace, and she was accepting.

She told Jake on the phone (it was the first time she'd spoken to him since she left LA) and he sounded somewhat distant. She didn't dwell on it. Mark was her number one priority right then, because when she shouted back at him, didn't take his insults on the chin, and threw all the reasons he needed to work on getting better right at him, things started to work.

Henry spent most of his time with Sofia, whether in or out of the SGH crèche, and the child settled into his mother's old life seemingly sooner than she did.

Before she knew it, a month had passed. Physio was going well, Mark had been stable for weeks, and the medical staff were dismissing him. She went into his room at SGH, and he was standing beside his bed, back in his plain clothes, packing a little case.

He looked up, and gave her a smile, and she took a moment to consider how he was completely back to Mark.

"Ready?" she breathed, smiling, and he tilted his head slightly to one side, as if she'd given him something to consider.

"Where does this leave you, Addie?"

That took her aback. She hadn't expected that question. Her response was somewhat shaky. "I'm… I'm… I'm still here, I'm working in the NICU, Owen was saying something just yesterday about extending my contract another two weeks…"

"Don't go." He sounded pleading, like a child. "Yet." He quickly corrected himself, as if brushing off everything he hadn't said in words in those moments. "I could still use you, Red…"

She didn't show him, she didn't tell him, but there were tears in her eyes.

* * *

She drove him home, and as she was nearing his flat, he turned slightly.

"Stay with me."

"What?"

"I probably shouldn't live on my own for a few weeks… it's too much to ask anyone else, Addie, Callie's looking after Sofia and Arizona, Derek's struggling with his hand and Zola and you're…"

She raised an eyebrow. "And I'm?"

"Addie. You're Addie."

"I've got Henry, I-" even she felt like she was making up a useless excuse for the sake of making up an excuse.

"I know. I've got Sofia now, remember? I can handle that. Stay with me."

He didn't need to ask twice.

* * *

She started sleeping in his spare room, then, with Henry in Sofia's room, and everything seemed to slow, everything seemed to still. Like, this time, life was happening around her, but hers was in slow motion. All of a sudden, and completely by accident, things were suddenly very domestic, suddenly very _normal. _Like they'd always been that way.

They didn't talk about Lexie, or the crash, or Jake, or the life she'd slipped away from, but they _talked, _like they'd never been able to with anyone else for years. Their lives fell together with ease, their children fell together with ease, and before either of them knew it they'd got to a stage where people were expecting to see Addison around him, and they'd notice her absence when she was gone.

She didn't think about that. Because she had this whole other life waiting for her somewhere else, and as long as she didn't think about it, it wasn't really there anymore. It was like it had never really been there.

* * *

Jake rang one night, and she took the phone through into the kitchen, her heart thudding.

"You're not coming back, are you, Addie?"

She waited for the choking, but it didn't come. The answer seemed altogether too simple. "I'm sorry… I just… he's Mark…"

"When were you planning on telling me?"

There was some guilt there, if not enough. "I'm sorry, I-" she sighed, and, with total honesty, "I don't think I knew until you asked me."

"We could have been good, Addison. We could have been wonderful."

"I'm sorry."

When she walked back into the lounge, Mark was sprawled on the floor with Henry, looking up at her as she entered the room.

"I'm staying."

* * *

The next months were hard. After all the physio had been conquered, all the focus was taken off medical recovery, and the ugly demon that was the loss of Lexie reared its ugly head.

Addison was still very lost in knowing how to deal at all with it; she hadn't been there, she hadn't known the girl – in fact, before the girl died, there'd been some sort of underlying jealousy she was in denial of.

And, in a way, a different kind of guilt was creeping up on Mark. Because Lexie died, and he'd loved Lexie, and it hadn't really been that long and there was this other woman in his flat, and there were children, and all those feelings that he knew once, a long time ago, were rising in his gut.

But she wasn't just another woman, he knew that really. She was Addison, and those feelings had always been somewhere. That should have made it all easier to get his head around, but in fact it made it harder.

* * *

She'd been living with him just over four months, it had nearly been six since the plane crash, when suddenly he realised he was exactly where he wanted to be.

He didn't feel guilty, in that moment. Suddenly, he almost felt blessed, as if he'd managed to find something he thought he'd lost years ago. He threw back a Scotch in the evening, bit the bullet and started talking.

"You've been here this whole time, Addie… maybe I haven't been looking at this right… maybe we should give this a go again…"

She was armed and ready with a comeback within seconds. Because she'd feared this for a while in the way he'd been looking at her. "I don't want to be the girl you settle for, Mark. I understand you loved Lexie, Lexie died. I came because despite everything, you're my friend, and I loved you, once…"

He shook his head. "Maybe I love you again, Addie. Maybe that's crept up on me… I'm not sure, and I'm so not ready for any of this to be happening… but you always crept up on me like a thief in the night… I'm all yours, I think, without any choice…" He hadn't realised his confession was going to go quite that far until it did.

She frowned for a moment, thinking. "You're saying we could find something here, sometime, again?"

He took her hands, and what had seemed so far away suddenly seemed quite close really.

"I'm saying we could try."

* * *

_As it was, he only lived a few days after the plane crash. Addison found out they'd turned off his life support down a phone line, at the funeral of another friend, and her whole world came crashing down around her._

**Hope you enjoyed! Sorry (again) it's been so long. I've been very busy! Would love to hear what you think, please leave your thoughts, however short :)**


	5. If she'd been there at the end

**IF**

'**If' is a wonderful word. A number of relatively independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.**

**Limited spoilers for their entire story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Sorry this one's so depressing. It had to be done.**

**Thank you so much for the feedback, especially those anonymous and guest reviews I can't reply to!**

**Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, still.**

**_If she'd been there by his side at the end_**

Derek called her that summer, she picked up her phone when she was sitting on the beach with Jake, watching Henry playing in the sand.

"You might want to get out here, Addie. Mark… There's an order to turn Mark's life support off if he's unresponsive for 30 days…"

She didn't say anything for moments, because there wasn't anything it was really possible to say in that moment.

"How long?" she managed in the end, her voice not sounding quite like her own.

"We've got a week left. I… I don't think…" he trailed off.

Even after everything, even after all those years, she still knew her husband well enough to hear the tears he wasn't allowing himself to shed in his voice.

"I'll… I'll get the first flight I can, Derek." She whispered; she still didn't sound like herself, and she was almost unsure she _was _herself.

She left Henry with Jake, because he was perfect, he was too good for her, and he was already perfect for her son. She kissed her little boy, tears already in her eyes, before she left the house, and let her boyfriend give her a slight smile. She hadn't told him anywhere near everything. She'd told him about the situation a 'close friend' was in, and she'd asked him, begged him practically, to understand that Seattle was where she needed to be right now. And Jake, in all his perfection, hadn't argued, hadn't even questioned her judgement. He'd told her to take as long as she needed.

She'd cried as she'd driven to the airport.

Because everything was imploding.

* * *

Meredith Grey met her from the airport, and they were too far gone now, things were too far in the past, too much was happening for that to even be strange. She wrapped her arms around the other woman the moment she cleared through the gates.

"I'm sorry about your sister." She breathed, although she couldn't help the lingering thought at the back of her mind, that ever since everything that had happened with Sloane and the baby and the second chance that had never really quite formed between her and Mark, she'd been innately _jealous _of the younger Grey girl. She'd held the place in Mark's heart Addison had thrown away, and that hurt.

Meredith said hardly anything as she drove Addison straight to the hospital.

And then she walked into a room, a cold, white, impersonal room, and she wondered if anything was going to make sense ever again.

There was a man in the bed, but that man wasn't Mark, not really. Things like this didn't happen to people like Mark.

She sunk, limbs suddenly heavy, into the chair next to his bed, and she reached out and took his hand.

And, suddenly, she didn't have any tears left to cry.

* * *

"You shouldn't go, Mark." She breathed, and it was the first time she'd dared to say anything. It wasn't the first time she'd been in the room by herself, but she'd been trying to stay calm, to stay rational, and she didn't want to start looking like the desperate friend (if that was what they were, she'd never been able to define her and Mark) of a dying man. But she'd been there three days, now, and nothing had changed. She'd taken shifts by his bedside, with Derek, with Callie, with Jackson Avery. None of them had wanted him to be alone.

So on her shift, she sat in silence. Until now.

She gave him a tiny smile, and that somehow felt like some sort of sin. As if she shouldn't ever be smiling again, let alone by his bedside.

"I feel kind of stupid, talking to you, Mark. But there are a lot of unsaid things, aren't there? And Callie said it helps, and I've seen Derek talking to you, so I guess if by some tiny tiny chance you can hear us you're wondering why on earth I'm not saying anything… so here goes…"

She paused, as if she was hoping for a reply, for some kind of acknowledgement, for this not to be an eternally one-sided conversation.

Obviously, she was greeted by silence.

"We screwed up and screwed up again, didn't we?" she gave a little chuckle, and that felt even more like sacrilege in that room. "We never had the right timing for one another, we were never in the same place at the same time… but I never thought it was completely over, Mark, I-" she swallowed. "I think somewhere in the back of my mind I always wondered if one day we'd end up in the same place – and we'd _fit _together for longer than a few nights… I never thought it was over, you and me… but you can't die, Mark… because there won't be any you and me anymore…"

She found it didn't feel as insane, as hopeless, as she'd thought it would.

* * *

"This happening… you being like this… it's got me thinking, I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to feel about anyone the way I feel about you… I've got this lovely boyfriend, now, Jake, and it's him and me and Henry… you haven't met Henry, but he's my son, Mark, and he's perfect… and I'm being _happy, _there. But I need you to wake up and either make me realise that we were never going to work anyway… make me realise we can both be happy somewhere else… or let something happen. Give us some other chance... because we could be wonderful, Mark, we always could have been wonderful..."

* * *

"You're not done yet, Mark. You've got so much you need to do, so much you need to be a part of. You're going to settle down, with me or without me, that's not what matters right now, and maybe you're going to have more children… and Sofia… you've got so much of her life to see, still. You're going to take her to her first morning at kindergarten, you're going to let her cry on your shoulder when her first boyfriend dumps her, you're going to see her graduate high school… She's gonna need you for all those things, Mark. And she's gonna need you to walk her down the aisle, one day, so far in the future… and you're gonna have grandchildren, and-" Her words caught in her throat, suddenly, the pictures of Mark in ten and twenty and thirty years time fading in her mind as she spoke. She swallowed, and the next words that came out of her mouth were almost begging.

"You can't go, Mark. I'm not ever going to be able to let you go…"

* * *

She brought both her hands down to his, so they were cupping his already somewhat lifeless left hand.

"It's the last day." She breathed, lifting his hand and pressing his fingers against her cheek for a moment. "Five o'clock, today, they're turning you off… " she swallowed, feeling all the tears she was refusing to let herself cry rise in her throat, but remain below the surface. "Say hi to Ella from me, Mark. You'll know which one she is, I think she would have had my hair. My hair, and your smile. And tell her I'm sorry, and I'll never forgive myself. And I never stop thinking about what you and I and her could have been. And take care of her, like I never did."

One tear started rolling down her right cheek.

"I can't get my head around it, really, that there's not a Mark in there somewhere, and that something as simple as flicking a switch on a machine could end your life… if there's anything still in there, even the tiniest little part of you, this is about the time for you to bring it out, Mark. We haven't got time. We never came together at the right time, but I never thought we were going to run out… I guess what I'm trying to say is I've always loved you, really, even when I've been too stupid to realise, and I'm sorry for every time I broke your heart. Because I know I did. But you broke mine too, Mark, more than once, and… if you don't somehow wake up and start making inappropriate comments, checking out the nurses and calling me Red in a couple of hours, I don't know that you won't break my heart so much it'll never mend… I don't know who I am without you in my world. I don't want to know."

* * *

She stood just outside the room as the time started ticking to five o'clock in minutes. And slowly, everyone started gathering, pale faces and averted eyes. Callie'd been sat by Mark's bed side for the best part of the hour, but it wasn't until Derek arrived that everyone surrounding her seemed to realise that the moment was imminent. It was Derek, in the end, that stepped back and looked at her.

"You should come in." he breathed, and she could hear the fear in his voice. "You've got as much right to be in here as we have."

In any other situation, she would have considered that that was somehow ironic, her ex-husband acknowledging the strength, the importance of the relationship that had ended their marriage, but it wasn't any other situation. She stepped into the room.

She and Derek took seats the opposite side of the bed to Callie, and Addison took his hand and Derek put his hand on Mark's shoulder.

The seconds were ticking past…

She closed her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, if she couldn't _see _what was going on right now, it wouldn't be going on.

The minute hand of the clock hit the hour, Derek reached out and squeezed her hand, followed by Callie's, and then he pressed something on the machine.

"We'll miss you." Callie whispered.

Addison squeezed his hand, and didn't take her eyes off him as the straight line drew across the screen of the monitor.

* * *

_As it was, it'd been at Pete's funeral she'd got the phone call. And as if she hadn't had enough tragedy in her life at that moment, someone (and she's still not sure who) at the other end, miles away, in Seattle, was saying '_they took Mark Sloan off life support' _like he could have been anyone, like he wasn't __**Mark**__, like he wasn't really still her everything. And then she was hanging up and echoing the words, and everyone was talking around her, but she couldn't really hear anything. _

_He'd gone, just like that. She wasn't ever going to say goodbye._

**Like I said, sorry it's so angsty/tragic/depressing! It was an 'If' that needed to be covered!**


	6. If she'd gone home with him

**IF**

'**If' is a wonderful word. A number of relatively independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.**

**Limited spoilers for their entire story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**I need to counter the angst/tragedy of the last chapter with something slightly more cheerful! (with a touch of angst, I can't help myself)**

**I'm using where Mark was in the 'as it was' at the end this time, so hope that sits alright, let me know! I'm trying to keep these oneshots two sided (where appropriate, comatose Mark is not particularly involved), but I seem to lean to the side of Addison by instinct!**

_**If she'd gone home with him**_

"_Your marriage is over, Addison. All you have to do is admit it. Then you can come back home with me. I'm going to the bar across the street. Meet me there."_

Those words lingered long after he'd left the elevator. She couldn't think, she couldn't even swallow. Everything was coming to a head and suddenly she had a decision to make that would change the entire rest of her life.

She'd made herself forget his eyes. There was something _powerful _about them, something that meant when he was talking to her, when he was looking right at her, she wasn't able to breathe.

They'd really had something, for a time. They'd really _been _something. But then Mark had slipped – and she knew, if she really thought about it, that that had been the fear, in the end – and she hadn't even given them a chance to come crashing down. She'd run back to Derek, who maybe hadn't been unfaithful, but she didn't think had loved her for quite a long time. They'd been coexisting, in the same house (rarely) and the same marriage bed (even more rarely) for the last couple of years.

Her and Mark – it had been _new, _different and something had suddenly felt exciting again. And she was involved, or more so than she'd been with Derek for a long time.

Despite everything, despite stumbling on him and Charlene in the on-call room, despite the cold detachment she'd felt in the abortion clinic waiting room, despite coming out to Seattle and not answering any of his calls, he still made her heart thump audibly. The brush of his fingers on her cheek still had her breathing heavily, still had her mouth suddenly feeling dry with anticipation. Maybe that all meant something.

She thought about the lost, longing looks her husband and that intern thought she wasn't catching across corridors and ORs in the hospital. Her marriage wasn't ever going to be again what she had walked down the aisle to, and though she could do nothing but put a large proportion of the blame on herself, she wondered if something had been culminating under the surface. Something had been fraying, and without Mark, without heat and infidelity and all her lies, it still would have fallen apart eventually.

Maybe it was time to step away. Maybe it was kinder to both of them.

* * *

"I'm going home." She breathed, and her husband didn't even look up from the paper he was reading. After a short time, he raised an eyebrow, and his head, ever so slightly.

"With Mark, I suppose?"

And she should have felt guilty, then, and it should have at least hurt her a little bit that it didn't seem to be bothering Derek in the slightest, but ever since his lips had first melded against hers, Mark Sloan had had some sort of hold on her she couldn't quite quantify.

"With Mark."

* * *

"Vodka and tonic, Joe." She smiled with her order, sitting, somewhat apprehensively, on one of the bar stools, as many seats as possible away from Meredith Grey. She felt like a teenager wishing for a date to prom or something, she couldn't help the niggling doubt in her mind that he wouldn't be there. Hell, he'd let her down before.

But then, she'd let him down too, they were both as bad as one another, and maybe this was their second chance.

She nursed the drink as Meredith's cell phone rang and she picked it up, a smile crossing her features, and turned and left the bar, not even finishing her drink.

Addison couldn't help the slight eye roll, which had Joe raising an eyebrow. No prizes for guessing who that was on the phone.

It was in that moment everything changed.

Mark hadn't been expecting, really, for as little as one moment, to see long red hair he knew too well sat at the bar. He hadn't expected to notice the small suitcase on the floor by her feet, he hadn't anticipated the slightly childlike look of apprehension on her face when she turned to look at him.

"Red." He breathed, as if reassuring himself that he wasn't dreaming. She gave him a tiny hint of a smile, but then her eyes started to fill.

"I should never have come out here, I was never going to win him back, Mark, I… I… you _cheated, _and I panicked, and I had the abortion and I came home from the clinic and packed my bags without even thinking… I…" she took a deep breath, having seemingly run out of words.

He took a few steps closer to her, unable to form any words. She slid off the stool, stepping towards him, slightly shaky on her feet. He reached out his left arm without thinking, brushing his fingers on her cheek, an echo of his hand in the elevator. Her eyes closed.

"Give me another shot?" he half-pleaded, suddenly finding himself only inches away. "Let me do it right this time. Come home with me."

She leant her face into his hand, smiling slightly. "We're a recipe for disaster, really, Mark, we've already screwed this up once… but I've got nowhere I'd rather be, right now…"

He pressed his lips lightly against hers, making her open and widen her eyes, a thousand and one emotions flitting through them in seconds. "We could try again. Just come home, and we'll give us another chance. Derek won't be on your mind anymore, I'll have learnt from my mistakes, I promise, and we could… we could be something."

"You think we could? You think we could build something again?"

He gave her a smile and an almost vicious nod. "Red…you don't belong here… and you haven't belonged with Derek for a long time…"

She seemed to consider for a few moments, in silence, and then she gave him a wide smile. Tentatively, she leant in and kissed him, slinging her arms around his neck, pulling her body close to his.

"I'd like to come home. Home's been with you, not with Derek, for longer than I realised, I think…"

* * *

They were back in Manhattan by the morning, her brief stint in Seattle nothing but an unpleasant memory.

* * *

_As it was, he sat beside Meredith Grey in the Emerald City that night._

"_What are you still doing here?"_

"_I'm hoping Addison shows up."_

"_You're still in love with her?"_

"_You're still in love with him?"_

"_She won't show, you know."_

"_No?" He couldn't help hoping, more than anything, that Meredith Grey, this girl he'd only just met, had never been more wrong._

"_He's not the kind of guy you leave if you can help it."_

"_What if you were wrong? What if just this once, life comes down on the side of the dirty mistresses?" He could hear how ridiculous he sounded. But he couldn't help hoping, not until Joe closed up and he had to leave._

_He went back to New York._

_He was back in Seattle within the year, trying again._

**Hope you enjoyed! Would love to hear what you think, as usual, hopefully this has cheered you up considerably more than the last chapter!**


	7. If he'd asked again

**IF**

'**If' is a wonderful word. A number of relatively independent pieces regarding the major 'if's in the history of Maddison. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty.**

**Limited spoilers for their entire story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Of all the Maddison heartbreak, this has got to be the worst, right? I just watched the crossover again today (torturing myself somewhat), and decided it was time to write this 'if'.**

**_If he'd asked again_**

"...if you're serious, and you want me, then ask again…"

The silence seemed to last indefinitely. Mark sighed, and in that moment she'd never felt so vulnerable. After everything, and the number of times everything between her and Mark had exploded, come crashing down, she suddenly had everything resting on this potential future, without even realising.

"I don't know where I am Red, I'm a mess right now… I'm… hell, I've known I'm a father about five minutes, and I'm about to be a grandfather… but this could work…"

If anything, she looked _smaller, _hunching her shoulders around herself. "You're not sure… this isn't the sort of thing you can't be sure about, Mark…"

"I'm not sure about anything, anymore, Addie… but we could make this work, couldn't we? If anyone could make this work, we could!"

She stared down at her knees for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I can't be your rebound girl, Mark…"

There was dry poison in his laugh. "And I wasn't always your rebound?"

She brought her eyes back to his, a thousand apologies behind them. "Not this time." She breathed, close to a whisper. "This time, you were everything I needed…"

There was still venom in his voice. "Because Bizzy's a lesbian?"

She frowned at him, an age old disapproving look. "Not just that." She sighed, locking her eyes with his. "You need to be sure this is what you want. There'll be a kid involved, Mark… this won't be something that we can walk away from when it all starts going wrong… and it always seems to start going wrong…"  
"We've both changed, Addison… I told you all last night, I've grown up. I can do this, now. We can both do this."

The tentative beginnings of a smile began to creep onto her lips. "Don't you ever think about all that history… don't you ever think we should have realised somewhere along the line that this never works?"

He shook his head. "Maybe this is what we need. Maybe this is where we need to be."

She leant forward slightly, closer to him. "You really think we could really do this? You think we could really be a family?"

He shook his head slightly, reaching out, placing a hand along the side of her face. "I'm not sure of anything much right now, Red, but if I know anything it's that you and I… we were never in the same place at the same time, and it never worked… but I think we could both be here now…"

She leant into his hand, pressing her lips gently against his skin. "Maybe it's the time we're in the same place."

She didn't let herself think about how _insane _this whole thing was, that hadn't they proven to each other that they always brought everything crashing to the ground, that her life was working out, she was enjoying being here, completely detached from the train wreck that New York and Seattle had turned into… and he'd been here merely days and turned all that upside down, and was making her consider changing everything she'd so carefully put together.

She didn't let herself think, let his lips brush hers, tasting his slightly apprehensive smile.

* * *

Finn Riley was born without complications shortly afterwards. Sloan was in Addison's spare bedroom within 24 hours, and catching up on hours and hours of much-needed sleep before her flight back to her mother the following day. She planned to go home and patch things up with her mother, and Mark and Addison were taking responsibility and some sort of makeshift custody of little Finn. She was planning on going to finish her final year of High School, but she assured them both she'd visit her father and her tiny, screaming, completely healthy son regularly.

Mark walked in Addison's living room, rocking a tiny blue parcel gently, bringing his finger silently to his lips to indicate the preciousness of the sleep state he'd just managed to achieve in his grandson. Addison gave him a tiny smile from where she was sat.

Finn gave a couple of gurgles then, followed by the most impressive spit up all down Mark's back, before starting screaming.

Addison couldn't help laughing as she took the child from him, rocking Finn into almost instant silence. Mark peeled the vomit soaked sweater over his head, grimacing.

"Still think we can do this?" Addison laughed.

Mark looked at her, slightly red in the face, clutching the dirty sweater. "I never doubted it for a moment."

* * *

Sloan _visited, _but she only ever visited. She wasn't ready to be a mother, and Addison had been ready to be a mother since she'd thrown away what she'd thought was her only chance. Mark fitted into the practice like he'd always been there, and Addison reached a time when she didn't really remember how she'd ever been happy without him.

Finn's father must have been tall, the boy was only eight but he already had seemingly never-ending legs. He was lounging on the couch, kicking his legs idly.

"Finn, have you done your homework?" Addison asked absentmindedly whilst prodding viciously at the coffee machine – they needed to get a replacement. Her son – her almost-son – rolled his eyes and scowled.

"Max doesn't have to do homework."

His mother turned, putting her hands on her hips and trying (and it isn't easy running on almost 24 hours without sleep after an emergency night shift at St Ambrose) to look cross.

"Finn, Max is in kindergarten."

Max was a miracle baby, the baby they thought they'd thrown away the chances to have. Addison thought it was quite possible he'd been conceived on their honeymoon, after their spur of the moment beach wedding shortly after Pete had died, suddenly, and they'd both started re-evaluating their mortality, and when she was having a tired and emotional day (not unlike this one), that made a whole lot of sense. She'd had a simple and uneventful pregnancy, with none of the complications she'd almost been promised, but it hadn't seemed real until a tiny baby with a shock of red hair and big blue eyes had been put in her arms. She'd leant back into her husband's arms and closed her eyes, only for a moment. She'd suddenly felt like she wanted to pause everything exactly as it was, with a baby in her arms, a second son really, with her eldest a four year old full of enthusiasm about his first sleepover tonight at his close friend Lucas'.

Mark had pressed his lips to Max's forehead first, and then to hers.

"We made him, Red."

She smiled a little at the memory, but checked herself almost instantly, frowning at her eldest.

"It won't take you long, Finn. And I thought… I thought you and me and Max could meet Daddy from the hospital and go out for pizza… how does that sound?"  
Her son's eyes lit up and he half-skipped into his bedroom, math homework suddenly not sounding so much of a chore.

With barely two seconds of silence, the sounds of "Mommy!" and her red headed son's calls coming from upstairs began. She ran a hand through her hair, allowing herself to consider her exhaustion for only a moment as she headed up the stairs.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

_As it was, the words __**I'm so sorry Red**__ haunted her dreams for weeks after Mark had flown back to Seattle. _

**Hope you enjoyed! That was end of the Maddison road, really, the crossover, it built all our hopes up so much and then brought them crashing down! Hope my 'If' makes you smile :)**


	8. If she'd never gotten pregnant

**This one goes out to the guest reviewer that had been looking forward to another chapter of If when I used a chapter of this to shamelessly advertise another of my fics. (In my defence, it was hiding in the Grey's Anatomy/Private Practice crossover section, where things don't get noticed!)**

**In a happy mood right now, so this is quite a shameless helping of fluff.**

_If she'd never gotten pregnant_

A week after Derek had stumbled in on them, after a week of pointedly ignoring Mark in the corridors of the hospital, he turned up on her doorstep in the evening. He was bearing a pizza box and a stack of DVDs, her favourite titles staring out at her.

"I thought you might need company." He breathed, giving her a slightly apprehensive smile, and in that moment she couldn't think of the thousand reasons she'd been giving herself in the last week why she never needed to see Mark again. She gave him a tiny smile, letting him through the doorway.

It occurred to her, as she poured two generous glasses of wine and watched Mark tangle with the television that she didn't think she'd smiled since her husband left her.

Hours later, after all her favourites – and that was the only time she'd ever gotten Mark to watch her chick flicks without complaining – and a bottle of wine between them, he stood up, powering off the television and giving her an almost apologetic smile.

She caught his hand.

"Stay."

She could see the conflicting emotions flashing through his eyes in those moments. "You've had a lot to drink, Red, you'll only regret it in the morning, I-"

"Not like that." She sighed, and released his hand. "I'd just like you to stay."

He seemed to assess the risks for a moment, and then sunk back into the couch beside her.

She smiled, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm here." He breathed. In that moment, it was enough.

* * *

She asked him out, first, in the end. He'd taken to spending a lot of evenings with her, a lot of time curled up on the couch with her, but it was like she was somehow now some sort of forbidden fruit, as if Derek finding them had brought the realisation crashing down on him that this _couldn't _happen, regardless of how far too late for any damage control it was. One night, about a month after everything had imploded, after they'd both worked long shifts at the hospital, and Mark's car was in for some repairs, so Addison was driving him home, she took him straight to the brownstone.

"Addie, I-"

"I think we should stop pretending." There was a confidence in her voice she didn't know she had. "Derek's not coming back. You know that as well as I do… Shouldn't we at least see if we could have pulled something together, you and me, in another life?"

There was a half smile on his face, and a dry chuckle in his voice. "In another life where I wasn't your husband's best friend, you mean?"

She ran a hand through her hair with something of an exasperated sigh. "You had me believe, those weeks, we were _something, _Mark. You had me believe that you-"

"That I loved you?" he put a hand on her cheek. Addison leant into his palm, almost imperceptibly. "I still do, Red."

She swallowed. There was something, like burning embers in the pit of her stomach that could one day turn into a fire. The hint of something this man did to her, something she felt. But it was too early, it was too _soon _right now. The guilt was still the thing taking up most of her consciousness.

"We should go out to dinner." She smiled, trying not to let the nervousness add a falsity to her voice. "We should try and do it properly."

"Properly." He was nodding. "You and me."

* * *

And they really did it properly. She didn't even invite him in for a night cap until after their third date, and the first night they just fell asleep in each other's arms, after a long conversation about the new interns. He'd been in her bed for a long time, but he found his mouth back on hers, his body pressing her into the mattress, his fingers dancing sordid patterns on her skin with the sunrise the following morning.

As they lay, sated, afterwards, Addison took a moment to consider how different it felt when it wasn't forbidden, when it wasn't in _fear_.

He'd been naked between her sheets and between her thighs for two months in the end when she got the phonecall from the solicitor.

"We should go out tonight." She half-laughed as she skulked back into the bedroom, having just taken the call. "To celebrate."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "What's happened?"

"Derek's filing for divorce." She whispered, and all of a sudden the reality came crashing down on her. Suddenly there wasn't a laugh in her voice, and she sat, shaking slightly, on the edge of the mattress. "And he'd rather not see me in the process."

Suddenly, she was crying, and she wasn't sure why. She'd known from the look in his eyes as her husband had cleared out of the brownstone that this wasn't going to be recoverable. And she hadn't really wanted it to be. But it was still a sudden upheaval, akin somewhat to a natural disaster, turning her life on its back.

Tentatively, Mark reached out and took her hand.

* * *

He moved into the brownstone entirely when the divorce was completely finalised. She watched the nerves, the uncertainty flit across his face as he handed over the keys to his flat, and for a moment the fear shot through her. Because she knew Mark – these last few years she'd grown to know Mark better than her husband, in more ways than one – and he scared easily, though he'd never admit it. And looking at him in that moment, she wondered if he was ready for all of this.

She reached out and took his hand, laughing, and the light came back into his eyes.

* * *

They lived together for nearly two years before anything really changed. They'd reached a sort of subtle domesticity that they both found themselves comfortable with, juggling more hours of work than they felt like they had in the day with each other's bodies, each other's feelings, each other's lives.

It was Christmas, and Mark had always had something of a childlike Christmas spirit, and Addison had been more of the kind to roll her eyes and groan – she'd been brought up a Montgomery, and everything had to be _just so_, whether she'd admit it or not.

He brought her breakfast on Christmas morning – somehow they'd both managed not to get landed with an emergency shift that year – and next to the fresh croissant and fruit juice there was a little red velvet box, crooked open, a white gold set emerald shining amidst the crimson.

She'd choked on her answer before he'd even asked a question, but there was never any doubt her noises meant yes.

He took her hand, smiling.

* * *

When she found out she was pregnant, two years later, after a wedding in the snow, another fellowship and the seedlings of consideration for a family, he bought a Yankees onesie and marked out the due date on the calendar, nothing but a proud smile on his face.

Ella was born in the spring, she was the image of her father with a shock of red hair, and to her parents, she was _perfect. _

* * *

_As it was, they'd only been together a few months when she'd found out about the baby. It had taken her weeks to pluck up the courage to tell Mark – this was the wrong place, and the wrong time. At first, when she told him, everything seemed wonderful. There was a Yankees onesie and a calendar marking the due date before she knew it. But internally, Mark was drowning. He didn't make good decision when he was drowning. When Addison caught him with Charlene, she booked her appointment at the abortion clinic before even thinking._

_It was always her biggest regret._

**As always, I would love to hear what you think!**

**[and if anyone's interested, the aforementioned crossover fic is **What A Difference A Lifetime Makes, **and can be found on my profile or in the crossover section. It's a response to what happened to Derek, and it's Maddek.]**


	9. If Mark had still been alive

**Here's an angsty one, and a slightly different 'if' scenario - my take on what could have happened had Mark been still alive, still in Seattle when Derek died. This one's one of the smutty ones, so if you're under 18, make yourself scarce!**

_If Mark had still been alive when Derek died_

The funeral was in the rain, which was somehow fitting. She stood at the back, because she wasn't anywhere near as important in Derek's life as she'd once been, and watched Meredith and the kids, with Mark clutching Zola's hand, looking paler than she'd ever seen him, looking like she felt – like she didn't know how the world was supposed to keep turning, with all that history erased.

When she got to the wake, she was glad Jake had stayed in LA with Henry. On her own, among so many people she didn't know – they had had quite a turnover of staff at Grey Memorial since she'd last been there (hell, when she'd last been there it had been Seattle Grace) – she could flit amongst the sombre looking people dressed in black seemingly unnoticed. And that was somehow what she needed, right then, to go unnoticed. Because everyone was in tears and remembering Derek for the great man he'd been, the great surgeon, the great father… and she was the woman who _cheated. _She would rather have gone unnoticed.

She was there only for the amount of time she felt necessary, and then she left quietly, unnoticed, a tiny nod in both Callie and Bailey's directions. She'd speak to Amelia later – her friend had quietly excused herself after the service. Amelia needed time. She sunk into the pillows on her hotel room bed when she got back, the nausea suddenly rising. For someone who'd been such a huge part of her life for so long, she'd stepped too far away. She'd detached herself too much. It was like there was a huge chiasm of grief she would be sucked into if she started to _think_, started to really consider anything between her and Derek… there was a knock on her door.

A slight confused expression on her face, she answered it without even looking through the peephole. In those few seconds, there was no possibility in her mind it was going to be anyone other than housekeeping. No one knew she was here.

It was Mark.

His eyes were the kind of dull, diluted red from hours of silent, hidden crying, and there were new lines around his eyes she hadn't seen before.

His voice was thick, breathy.

"Red." He sounded like he was in pain. She shook her head slightly, not even knowing what she was turning down, refusing.

"I couldn't be there any longer, Mark, I'm sorry…" she took a deep breath, looking down at her feet. "I wasn't part of his life, not for a long time…"

Mark shook his head, reaching out to touch her. She shied back, as if skin to skin contact would make everything implode. He sighed.

"You need to cry." He breathed, taking another step towards her.

"What?"

"I know you, Red. You haven't cried. You're pretending this isn't happening. You need to cry, it needs to become real-" there was a choke in his voice that threatened to start his own tears again, but he seemed to swallow it, "-it is real."

"I can't, I-" she breathed, and trailed off, staring at her feet. He reached a hand under her chin and tilted her face up, locking his eyes with hers. Suddenly, Addison found herself shaking, and this time she didn't step away. "I can't go back there, Mark. I'm happy, I'm married, we have a son…"

There was something in his eyes she'd always been able to read.

"You have to go back. It has to be as real for you as it is for me… no one else will see it quite the same way, I-" He sounded desperate, pleading. She felt her heart thumping, suddenly.

There was a tear running down her cheek - she wasn't sure how it got there. She shook her head slightly. "I want to forget." She breathed, "Just for a while – I want to be able to not think about where we are now…"

He sounded almost strangled. He wasn't that man anymore, they hadn't seen each other in years – he had a long term girlfriend, another plastic surgeon from Seattle Presbyterian, she was on a conference in Tokyo. But they were both the old people they'd always been when they were together. Years of correction, years of improvement were suddenly null and void. "I can help with that." He half-whispered, and for seconds everything seemed to move in slow motion – Mark was coming towards her, his eyes were suddenly as dark as she'd ever seen them, her breath was hitching in her throat, there was a sudden warmth, a sudden _alive _feeling between her thighs, and she was married, she was a mother, she was happy – but it was easier right now to go back to the way they'd been on the steps of the brownstone so many years ago: when Derek was alive and a person she could still cheat on.

So she let Mark's lips crash against hers.

He tasted exactly as she remembered: of broken feelings, of passion, of something forbidden. Of _fire_. Within seconds he had her backed against the wall beside her, palms either side of her head, mouth travelling down her throat.

This was good, this was so old and familiar she could forget everything. Everything that had happened in the last few days, that terrible phone call from Amelia telling her what had happened to Derek, but also everything that had happened in the last years. This new, wonderful reality she had created was dissolving with his lips on her skin again. They weren't as far from the people they once were in those moments. She hooked one of her legs around his hips, feeling his already growing arousal. That gave her some satisfaction, the effect she could still have on him.

Suddenly his mouth was trailing further down, and suddenly the sensible black funeral appropriate blouse she'd been wearing was in the way, and he was something of an animal – she supposed some of that was desperation, some of that was guilt – and he had no concern for her ever needing her funeral blouse again. Buttons were flying everywhere and his hands were off the wall all of a sudden, one supporting her knee, forcing her close to him, so she could feel every line, every contour of his body, one deftly snaking up her back, flicking her bra fastening.

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes, crashing against the wall as his mouth closed around a pebbled nipple, his devilish tongue lapping tiny concentric circles. Her hips began to buck involuntarily, and she was suddenly aware Mark was in far too many clothes. As he lifted her, allowing her to bring her other leg around his waist, and started carrying her towards the hotel room bed, she was tugging the buttons open on his shirt, sliding it back over his shoulders, readying it to be completely shed.

He crashed her into the mattress, crashing on top of her seconds later, hands already working at the waist of her trousers. He slid them down over her hips, taking her panties with them, a sudden urgency in his movements, barely giving her seconds to work his own zip and button, reach into his crotch and take him in her hands.

It wasn't just him that had this effect on her, and there was some involuntary bucking from him, too, as her fingers feathered along his length, her breath hitching purely at the memory of his size inside her.

He grasped her wrists, pulling her hands roughly out of his pants, pinning them above her head. He slid his mouth down her body, then, rough and inaccurate, before it found its desired location between her thighs, nipping at the skin, ascending.

Her breath caught as his lips found their final destination, his tongue darting out, brushing against where she needed it most so quickly she could hardly _think. _She found her back arching in anticipation and impatience as his tongue gently stroked everywhere but her clit, until, all of a sudden, he found his target, sucking, even nipping slightly, making her hips buck involuntarily, bringing her so close.

That wasn't what today, right now, needed to be, however. It was as much about him as it was about her, and she knew he needed it as much as she did. She roughly pushed him away from between her thighs, pulling him crudely upwards, pushing his pants around his ankles, taking him in her hands.

"I need this… inside…now…" she gasped, before catching his lips with her own, tasting herself. He didn't waste time, and that night wasn't the time for pleasantries, so he plunged into her, starting to rock instantly, not even waiting for her to adjust.

She was so wet it hardly mattered, but she hadn't been used to his size in many years, so she gave a little cry. He didn't stop, he didn't slow, he didn't apologize, he just kept rocking into her, biting down on her lower lip so hard she tasted blood.

She started meeting his every thrust, and after that no one was going to last long, not then. He hadn't gotten it in him to be a gentleman, not that night, and he found himself spilling into her seconds before her muscles started clamping. He had enough decency to keep up his rhythm as she found herself teetering on the edge, and she came with a strangled cry moments later, twisting her face away from him, but clutching his buttocks, holding him tight into her, as if she couldn't handle complete detachment right then.

* * *

Between her sheets, afterwards, she cried a little.

He ran his fingers over the pale, bare skin of her shoulder, painfully aware there was nothing he could do or say to comfort her.

"This is still who we are." She choked, unable to meet his eyes, "Cheaters. After everything, after all this time, after… Derek… we're not any better than we ever were…"

He stilled his fingers on her skin.

It sounded hopeless.

* * *

_As it was, Mark had been long gone when Amelia phoned her about Derek. It had been two and a half years, and she'd almost come to terms with it. And then the news that her ex-husband was wherever Mark was now was crashing around her ears, and the wound reopened. So much of her past, erased._

_She didn't fly out to the funeral, and that was something she regretted for a long time._

**Hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear what you think, I still don't think of myself as a very practiced smut writer and am always very nervous posting it!**


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